


The Better Part of Valor

by thestarkswillendure



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarkswillendure/pseuds/thestarkswillendure
Summary: The day Barry Allen is assigned to Caitlin Snow's case begins like any other.





	1. Chapter 1

Coarse leaves brushed against his skin, the arid weather long having dried them out, the grass below his feet just as bone dry and summer-scorched. It seemed eerie that a place so green could feel so dead, as if the memory of what had occurred here still lingered. 

Sweat gathers at his brow, unmoved by the slightest of breezes, his flannel shirt damp against his skin. _It’s too hot_ , Barry thinks.

He sweeps the area once again with a critical eye, glancing back down at the photograph in her file. Her car, a dark cyan Volkswagen beetle, no longer occupied the scene, long having been towed away after being examined for evidence, but undeniably it’s the same area. The same tree from the photograph rests in the background, a rough whirlpool of a pattern warping the bark.

“I would have told you, if I’d known,” Joe offers quietly, beside him.

“It’s fine. We weren't close,” Barry replies, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Barry remembered her well though, the quiet, pretty girl in all his science classes. They’d worked together in the lab sometimes, the air between them almost vibrating as they bounced ideas off one another at a rapid pace. He’d liked her, she was kind and witty and perhaps the most pragmatic person he’d ever encountered. She was the kind of person that you found yourself constantly aware of because you wished, that in some other timeline, they meant something more to you.

Still, they’d never quite become friends, her walls always high and barring entry, the death of his mother still a raw wound despite the years. Even now, the pain threatened to pull him under at times but at least, he had Joe and Iris and Wally and even Eddie and Cecile to help him through.

He glanced back down at the file, clammy fingers swiping over the picture on file.

Who did Caitlin Snow have in her time of need?  


* * *

 

The day Barry Allen is assigned to Caitlin Snow’s case begins like any other. 

He stumbles out of bed late and rushes through his morning routine, hopping out the door, still tugging on his sneakers, keys and wallet spilling out of his hands.

He all but sprints to the precinct, running through the streets of Central City as fast as he could, neatly dodging every obstacle in his path. Work was close enough that he’d never felt like he needed a car but on days like this, he thinks, having one would be useful.

He comes to a stop before the entrance of CCPD, fixing his shirt and waiting to catch his breath. He couldn’t afford to look like he’d just rolled out of bed, even though it was an accurate assessment, Singh would have his head.

With a deep breath, Barry rights himself and shoves his way through CCPD’s doors, looking up to find --

“Captain Singh!”

Singh spares him a reproaching stare, giving the officer at his side a brief word before he turns on his heel. Over his shoulder, he calls.

“Allen. My office. Now.”

Barry groans, dragging his feet as he follows the Captain into his office. He shuts the door behind them, fully expecting to be berated once again for his tardiness but when he glances up, he finds Eddie and Joe already in the room. He sends them a questioning glance, the expression mirrored on their own faces.

“Gentleman,” Singh begins, settling into his seat, hands steepling together under his chin, “This case I’m about to assign you is… extremely sensitive. Missing persons case, first opened three years ago, undoubtedly a forced disappearance. We have the initial 911 call on record, the vic thought someone was following her and evidence does show signs of a struggle. When officers arrived on the scene, she was gone, her car abandoned on the side of the road. We didn’t have many leads we could follow at the time and the longer the search dragged on - well, let’s just say we’ve been looking for a corpse.”

Singh stares at each of them, hard and assessing. Picking up the folder before him, he spins it and drops it before Joe, file open to the first document.

“This morning we received something, lab is still examining it but the DNA is a match. This girl is alive out there somewhere and she's sending us a message. Now, I want this handled as…”

Singh’s voice faded into the background as Barry’s eyes found the picture in the open file. The gasp escapes him unbidden and Singh pauses, frowning.

“Something you’d like to add, Mr. Allen?”

Barry, almost mesmerized, reaches over Joe’s shoulder, unclipping the picture from the file. Warm brown eyes, brown curls and a sweet smile stare back at him.

“Caitlin,” he remembers.

Eddie shifts in his seat, looking up at Barry.

“You knew her?”

“We went to school together,” Barry explains, almost absent-mindedly. “I can't imagine why anyone would want to hurt her.”

The room is silent for a moment, Barry still engrossed in the picture and the others still examining the expression of Barry’s face. Singh coughs, eyes flickering down to his desk for a moment.

“Barry…” he calls, waiting till he's received his attention, “I need to know that this won't be a conflict of interest for you.”

Barry blinks, picture in hand falling to his side.

“No, of course not. I'll cooperate with the investigation, anything Joe and Eddie need,” he promises.

Singh shakes his head.

“I don't need you to cooperate, I want you to lead it.”

Almost immediately, they begin to protest, Eddie and Joe’s voices echoing Barry’s when he points out that he isn't a detective,  that he can't possibly take lead on a case.

With a single wave of his hand, Singh silences them.

“Officially, Joe will be lead detective on the case but I want Allen running point on the interviews. He knows the girl, that will bring some assurance to her family and it gives us some more insight into her life. We need every resource we have at our disposal.”

Joe nods approvingly, seeming to find the logic in that. Eddie, like Barry, doesn't seem very convinced but he too acquiesces.

“Great. I'll have the lab send you all a copy of the results and I’ll let you all get to work." 

Eddie and Joe stand, Joe tucking the folder under his arm and together, they file out of the room.

“Oh and Allen? Don't let me catch you being late again,” Singh calls from his office.

Barry sighs, _so close._

Outside, Joe pauses, sharing a glance with Eddie.

“Barr, we still have some paperwork to finish from our last case. Why don't you start going over the case details?” he suggests, holding the file out to him.

“I'm fine, Joe. You don't have to treat me with kid gloves,” Barry says, taking the file from him and clipping the picture back into place.

With a turn on his heels, he makes his way to his lab, settling in a chair by the windows to review the case notes.

_Case Number: N56-320-7_

_Date Filed: May 19, 2015_

_Classification: Missing Persons_

_Name: Snow, Caitlin_

He scans details of her person, nationality, sex, height, weight, physical characteristics, marveling at just how small she is compared to him, a stature of only 5’4 (163 cm) and 123 lbs (56 kg). The ‘distinguishing features’ section didn't note much of interest but that wasn't unusual.

He notes from her ‘related persons’ section, the one reserved for immediate family, partners and offspring, that she was once engaged. Beside her fiance's name, Ronnie Raymond, was the date of his death (December 11, 2013), approximately two years before Caitlin’s disappearance.

 _Brief_ , he thinks and then realizes he spoke too soon as he turns the page.

 _Circumstances of Disappearance: Last seen May 19, 2015 off of the I35_ _turnpike, coming from a friend’s house (Cisco Ramon). Vic called precinct at 10:39 pm, reporting her car had broken down and that she believed someone was following her. Signs of a struggle corroborate, foul play suspected due to damaged catalytic converter and broken driver's window. Fight moved into the woods as vic tried to run away._

_Evidence: Blood found at the scene matching vic’s DNA (Sample #1456-CS51), two sets of footprints in the mud catalogued at approximately size 6 women's and size 10 men's (Image #4957-678 and #5789-642), personal items left behind in vic’s car: purse, cell phone, charger, makeup bag and wipes, hairbrush, wallet with ID, cash, credit and cards intact (Inventory Box #1612-G5), pepper spray found under the car with vic’s fingerprints (Item #6895-23)._

_Recorded call (10:39 pm, May 19, 2015. Lasted a minute, 52 seconds. #MP-CS-051915)_

_Officers arrived on scene at 10:56 pm._

The more he reads, shifting through images of the crime scene, the clearer the image forming in his head becomes. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he powers his computer, wanting to hear her voice in those final moments before her disappearance. Idly, he thumbs through the depositions of her family and close friends, noting that the officer on the case had found Caitlin’s mother to be ‘wholly unaffected’.

Searching through the system, he looks for the recording mentioned in her file. It’s short like the file mentions, barely 1 MB of data but there's a feeling of dread in Barry as he clicks the play button and the recording begins.

“ _911, what's your emergency?”_

There's a pause and then Caitlin’s voice comes in a rush, firm but clearly panicked.

“ _My car broke down on I35 and I don't feel safe, I think there's someone following me.”_

_“We’re tracing your call as we speak. Can you tell me your name?”_

_“Caitlin. Caitlin Snow.”_

_“And can you describe the car you think is following you?”_

_“I - I don't know. Its black… And it has tinted windows, I think. I’m not good with car models.”_

_“That's okay. Can you tell me when you first noticed it?”_

_“I- fuck! This stupid car-”_ A pound comes over the line, probably Caitlin hitting the wheel if Barry were to guess. Her voice sounds weaker now, coming in dry heaves.

“ _Ma’am, we've already dispatched officers to your location. Stay calm, help is on the way.”_

Caitlin takes a deep shuddery breath, as if steeling herself and Barry can't help admire her resilience. When she speaks again, she sounds focused.

“ _I first noticed it when I got onto the interstate but I'm sure it’s been following me since I left my friend's house.”_

The dispatcher begins to stay something, her voice drowned out by Caitlin’s screams and the sound of shattering glass, distinct even though the line. The rest of the video is indecipherable, the ensuing struggle coming through in the form of grunts and pants, the dispatcher’s voice faint in the background as she tells the officers en route to hurry. There's a shout at one point, clearly made by the perpetrator, because its deeper and followed by a muffled curse, the voice not belonging to Caitlin. The sounds fade after that, the silence that follows is deafening. It makes the hair on Barry’s arms stand on end.

Barry rewinds, listening carefully for a hiss of a can, assuming the shout was the moment in which Caitlin used the pepper spray and took the opportunity to run. He replays that brief moment about a dozen times but finally he hears it, faintly, the spray from an aerosol can.

He plays the full recording again, listening closely for any other clues, heart clenching once again at Caitlin’s scream. He wonders if they ever used voice recognition software to clear up the man’s voice and resolves to speak to the officer on file. He's listening to the recording for the fourth time when Joe walks in.

“Hey, what have you found?”

Wordlessly, Barry hands over the file, starting the recording anew. Joe flinches a bit, hearing Caitlin scream and Barry knows, he just knows that Joe is imagining Iris in such a scenario.

The line clicks dead as the recording comes to an end and Joe sighs, hands coming up to scrub at his face.

He doesn't say anything because there isn't anything that can be said. Cases like these, like his mother's, they stayed with you, they haunted your thoughts.

Cases like these made careers but they tore at you.That was the thing about cold cases, you couldn’t count on new witnesses, new evidence, new angles to change the bigger picture. The picture was already set in its frame and like a curator, one could only look harder to spot the inconsistencies.  

Barry would know, he glanced at the projector screen he’d pulled down over his investigation board. Even now, 18 years later, he was trying to solve the mystery of his mother's murder, trying to exonerate his father for a crime he didn't commit.

The details of that night remained seared in his head, the screaming, the open door, a dark figure running away in the distance as Henry Allen tried to shield his son from the sight of his mother's corpse.

 _“_ Where do we start, Barr?”

“At the scene of the crime.”


	2. Chapter 2

Caitlin’s mother is… clinical, to say the least.

Barry is by no means a stranger to Dr. Carla Tannhauser, having followed her research since his early days in college but it's a surprise for him when he finds out that she's Caitlin’s mother.

Dr. Tannhauser looks a lot like Caitlin, brown curly hair, high cheekbones, same petite frame but she radiates a kind of coldness that Barry can't seem to reconcile with Caitlin, despite knowing she was certainly capable of it. Caitlin, despite the walls and the icy exterior, had an inherent warmth to her, a kindness to her, something which Barry had always admired. Dr. Tannhauser seemingly had no such warmth. Even her office, all glass and steel chrome, illuminated by the fading light of the sun, was deprived of any personal effects, the only indication as to who the office belonged to was a small framed photograph on the edge of her desk. A young Caitlin smiled back awkwardly, her small stature framed in by her mother and, Barry presumes, her father.

Dr. Tannhauser seems rather unimpressed at Barry’s having gotten past her assistant, setting aside her files with a sigh, blue eyes piercing.

“Gentlemen, I understand you’ve been assigned to my daughter’s case but as I told the previous detective, my daughter and I were… estranged for quite awhile before she disappeared,” she pauses, eyes flickering down to her files. “Any information you may require, I suggest you speak with Mr. Ramon, he kept all of Caitlin's personal possessions when I terminated the lease on her apartment.”

Joe blinks, bewildered and Barry processes this slowly. Cisco Ramon. The friend that had last seen Caitlin.

It seemed strange to him that she hadn't kept Caitlin's belongings. Wouldn't she want to feel close to her daughter after everything? That they’d even been estranged seemed a foreign concept to Barry, his entire life having been a long arduous trial in trying to get as close to his parents as possible.

Taking a deep breath, he steps forward, fighting back the urge to cringe when Carla’s sharp gaze turns to him.

“Dr. Tannhauser, I knew Caitlin. We went to school together. I assure you I will do everything in my power to find her and bring her back,” Barry promises earnestly.

She scrutinizes him carefully, looking for something only she knows. She must seem to find it because something in her expression gives, her face melting into something shadowed and weary.

Silently, she stands and makes her way to the windows. She doesn't speak for a long time.

“It's been three years, Mr. Allen. Do not make promises you cannot keep.”

Barry glances at Joe, taking it for the dismissal it is. He's halfway through the door when she speaks.

_“_ Nigel Cadrot…” she hesitates, clearing her throat. “My daughter came to visit me, about a year after her fiance died. She needed help with a serum she’d been working on. We got into an argument and Nigel, my research assistant, got caught up in it and I- I don't know what happened exactly but she left and he was furious… He quit shortly after.”

Barry mulls that over, understanding what she's trying to offer. It seemed like a stretch but at this point, every lead mattered.

“I intend to keep my promise,” he responds and she must understand that he means to look into it because she nods, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Barry blinks, seeing someone who wasn't really there.

 

* * *

 

 Nigel Cadrot, it turns out, returned to Canada shortly after leaving Tannhauser Industries, having opened up a new lab in the past year.

Despite knowing the long shot that it was, Barry feels disappointed, like he’s failed Caitlin in not solving her case immediately.

Still, Dr. Tannhauser gave no indication of the kind of serum Caitlin was working on and so he makes quick work of locating Mr. Cadrot’s number.

He’s expecting the man to be a lot more forthcoming than he is, given he’s asking about a seemingly inconsequential conversation that took place approximately fours years ago, but instead he spends a total of ten minutes listening to Cadrot rant about technology and it’s ever-persistent invasion of privacy, the lack of regulation for law enforcement both in the US and abroad and the rife egos of rich kids ‘playing at doctor’.

“Why do you say that? Did you find Ms. Snow’s work to be unfounded?” Barry asks.

“Unfounded?! What else would you call trying to slow cellular degeneration with transmuted radioisotopes? I can see why her mother never brought her into the company, the sheer egotism. That’s what our conversation was about, I was telling her how foolhardy she was”.

Barry doesn’t quite believe that and even though he wants to correct him, that actually it has been proven that radioactive copper transmutations, at least, when bonded with the copper atoms in DNA, are essential for cellular functioning, he bites his tongue.

“Why did you quit Tannhauser Industries shortly thereafter?”

“Well, I realized I needed to make my own name rather than continue to work under another’s,” he replies rather snootily. Barry suppresses a snicker, imagining the kinds of things Caitlin said to him to have wounded his own ego.

“Well, that will be all for now, Mr. Cadrot. Thank you for your time.”

Barry hangs up immediately, not wishing to hear anything else from that insufferable man. He looks down at his notes, the long stretch of white blurring before him. The crime board is sparse too when he looks up at it, only broken links where there ought to be a chain. He scribbles his new lead onto a post it and tacks it up, right next to Caitlin’s photo. He didn't know how or why but he felt it in his gut, this serum, whatever it was, was important.

* * *

 

The case takes up every spare minute Barry has. He examines crime scenes and runs tests, he gets results that puts away criminals and gives closure to ailing families, he has dinner at the West house with Iris and Joe and Wally and Cecile, he visits his dad in Iron Heights. But rather than go home and rest, Barry stays and he works, digging and digging until he’s found himself in a hole he can no longer climb out of.

He’s good at what he does, he can tell a story from the way a wound is inflicted, the way clothes tear, the way a hand trembles and a smile tapers off. Small details are but a thread in a larger woven tapestry and Barry is good at unweaving them. Still, he’s not quite so good at separating himself from the ones that hit too close to home.

He solicits Caitlin’s research, everything Mercury Labs could give him, in addition to the notes Dr. Tannhauser had from when Caitlin visited her.

He familiarizes himself with the thin scrawl of Caitlin’s handwriting, the slanted and overdramatic signature of her name on documents from Mercury Labs, the sheer weight of her research. She was… brilliant, her work transformative, even inspiring.

He wonders sometimes, late at night when he’s still in his lab, flipping through her notes, if she ever found it difficult to go home. If she too liked to stay in her lab long after everyone else had gone home, working. Did she dread coming home to a silent apartment? He liked to think so.

Home to Barry had once been his childhood home, his parents still alive and free. Then, it had been the West house with Iris and Joe. To others, home was the place you walked to from the station nearby. Or the saved destination at the end of a long drive. It was a journey committed to memory, as easy as breathing or taking a step. But home, to Barry, was the people he loved.

No one awaited him when he went home to his loft.

His bed when he flops down is cold to the touch, even with the warm summer night breeze coming in through the window.

For a long time, he tosses and turns, mentally reviewing facts about the case until he slips into a restless sleep. He dreams of Caitlin that night.

_“Hey Cait, you want to hear a joke?”_

_Caitlin glanced up, brown eyes bug-eyed behind her goggles, the tilt of her head indicating that he continue._

_He smiles and launches right into the joke._

_“So a physicist, a chemist and a biologist visit the ocean. The physicist, fascinated, decides to study the fluid dynamics of waves. He walks into the ocean and never returns. The biologist then decides he wants to study the flora and fauna of the sea so he too walks into the ocean and never returns. What do you think the chemist does?”_

_She scrunched up her face in thought, leaning down to make sure the solution was at the 250 ml line._

_“I don't know. What does he do?”_

_“After a long time, he writes down his observation. ‘'Biologist and physicists soluble in ocean water’”._

_She laughs brightly, dissolving into quieter giggles when Mr. Nevins looks over at them sharply._

_“Alright, let's see if you know the punchline to this one. A neutron walks into a bar and asks how much for a beer. What does the bartender tell him?”_

_Barry grins. He knew this one._

_“‘'For you, no charge,’” he answered, slapping the countertop in the rhythm of the classic snare drum and cymbal. Caitlin groaned._

_“Nooo. That one doesn't count, I get to go again!” she argued, watching Barry add the solvent._

_“No way. You chose a common joke, I knew the punchline. You lose, Snow!”_

_Caitlin pouted, Barry grinned. It wasn't often he got the chance to trade dorky science jokes with someone but Caitlin, at least, always seemed to enjoy them._

_“Alright, you get one more chance,” Barry relents. Caitlin beamed._

_“Why did Dracula quit grad school?” Caitlin asks, looking sly, tongue in cheek._

_Barry shrugs._

_“His next-generation sequencing results drove him bat ChIP crazy!”_

_Barry groaned, shaking his head._

_“Biologists have the worst jokes,” he mocks, chuckling at Caitlin's face when she turns to him in outrage._

_He winks at her and grins, the plastic of his goggles digging into his cheek._  

_She reddens and turns her head, resolving not to speak to him for the rest of the class period. Barry tries to hide his smile and fails._  

* * *

 

 The hazy blue of day is melting into the soft shy orange of dusk when Barry arrives. Cisco’s house is a modest bungalow with a gabled dark roof and a lush green lawn that reminds Barry a bit of the West house. A smile comes unbidden to his lips at the thought and he’s still smiling softly up at the house when the door is yanked open.

“Can I help you?” the woman at the door asks, tucking dark hair behind her ear.

She’s pretty, Barry notes, even with the narrowed dark eyes, full of wary. She’s wearing a sundress, her feet barefoot, dark brown hair tumbling loosely down her back and over her shoulders.

“I’m looking for Cisco Ramon. Does he still live here?”

He smiles disarmingly, allowing her eyes to dart around his features. After a moment of hesitation, she turns halfway into the house and calls.

The man who comes to the door is just as dark in coloring, coppery brown skin, long dark hair and dark eyes. Barry’s eyes flit down to the Star Trek t-shirt and the khaki bermudas.

“Yes?”

“Cisco Ramon. I’m Barry Allen, I’m here on behalf of CCPD. I’ve been assigned to Caitlin’s case. Is this a bad time?”

Cisco stares and then with a start, steps back, allowing Barry to step inside the house. He follows the woman into the house, Cisco shutting the door behind them.

“This is my fiance, Cynthia,” Cisco introduces, gesturing for them to sit. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Oh no, thank you. I was just hoping to ask you some questions. I’m sure you’re aware that we’ve received communication from someone we believe to be Caitlin, yes?”

Cisco nodded, settling stiffly beside Cynthia, who nudged him gently, concern in her eyes. Barry glanced away, busying himself with getting his notepad out but still, he could see the way Cisco grasped Cynthia’s hand, squeezing it gently before he turned to give Barry his full attention, nervous fingers coming up to tuck long strands behind the ears.

“Do you mind if I record this?” Barry asked, setting his phone on the table, the voice recording app open. Cisco shook his head and Barry pressed the button to begin recording.

“According to her file, you were the last person to see Caitlin on the night of her disappearance. Do you remember why Caitlin was here that afternoon?”

“My brother Dante, he died May 2014. Caitlin came to keep me company on the anniversary.”

Barry nodded, scribbling that down next to the list of questions he’d compiled for this meeting.

“Did she seem off to you that day? Paranoid? Mention anything about someone following her?” Barry asked, eyes pinning Cisco in his place.

“No, no. She was supposed to call me once she got home but….” he trailed off, the unspoken _‘she never did’_ hanging in the air between them.

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?"

“Everybody loved Caitlin. She was difficult to get close to, didn’t really let a lot of people in but once she did... there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for the people she loved,” Cisco grimaced, head ducking, his face shadowed by the curtain of hair.

Barry pursed his lips, eyes flickering to Cynthia, who sat with an impassive air about her.

“Was her mother included in that list of people?” Barry asked rather bluntly.

Cisco’s head shot up, something akin to anger flickering briefly in his eyes. Barry had the suspicion that Cisco’s anger wasn’t meant for him. He gave Cisco a minute to collect his thoughts, swallow whatever bitterness rested between him and Caitlin’s mother.

“Caitlin’s relationship with her mother was… complicated,” Cisco spat, as if restraining himself from using a stronger adjective. Or expletives.

“So I’ve gathered... You don’t like Dr. Tannhauser, do you? Why?”

Cisco didn’t even hesitate, the words bubbling up and pouring over his lips like acidic bile.

“You know what she said when they first told her Caitlin was missing? She said she’d probably run away. Can you believe that?! Like what kind of mother hears their child is missing and that’s their first reaction? As if Caitlin was some recalcitrant child who hadn’t gotten her way. And she didn’t even want to keep Caitlin’s belongings! Just terminated the lease on Caitlin’s apartment and told me to pick up Caitlin’s things or they were going to be donated,” Cisco huffed a breath, Cynthia pulling him back into his seat from which he’d slowly risen as he ranted.

Barry watched quietly as Cynthia smoothed a comforting hand over Cisco’s shoulder.

“I actually went to school with Caitlin,” he offered, a ghost of a smile rising up on his lips when Cisco blinked in surprise.

Clearing his throat, Barry glanced at the list of questions again, discarding those that Cisco had inadvertently answered during his tirade. His eyes landed on the last one, bolded and circled in red.

“Can you tell me anything about the serum Caitlin was working on?”

Cisco frowned, brows drawing together in puzzlement.

“Caitlin never consulted with me about any serum. But, I mean, my field of expertise was always mechanical engineering,” Cisco explained, frowning again. “Do you think whatever she was working on was important enough to someone that they’d kidnap her?”

Barry hesitated, unsure whether to share his findings with them but he got the feeling that if there was anyone truly desperate to find Caitlin, it was Cisco.

“When I visited Dr. Tannhauser, she mentioned that Caitlin had gone to see her for help with a serum. I’ve been looking at Caitlin’s research, all the files I could get from Mercury Labs and it doesn’t seem like it was an on-the-books project. Which means, she could have been gotten outside funding and solicitation. Did she, at any moment, mention meeting with anyone new?”

Cisco shook his head, looking crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember her mentioning anything along those lines.”

Barry nodded and after a moment, rose from his seat. He thanked Cisco and Cynthia for hosting him and gave them his business card, promising he’d keep them informed. They bid him farewell and he left, returning to a home that wasn’t really home at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? Just a little clarification on dates because I am getting a lot of them from the canon universe. So in the show, December 11th was the night of the particle accelerator, I used that date for Ronnie's death and I used the date of Ronnie's canon death (May 19th) for Caitlin's disappearance. The Flash Wiki placed Dante's death (at least from Earth-2) in May so I stuck with that for the reasoning as to why Caitlin had visited Cisco. Caitlin visited her mom the November after Ronnie's death so almost a year later.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. We're pretty much done with exposition and now we can get to the good stuff. Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Barry’s feet pounded against the concrete, his blood pumping along to the rhythm of the music, a staccato of noise amplified in his ears. His problems drifted far behind him, kites on a string, harmless on their own but always at risk of being struck by lightning.

He’d needed this, the freeing feeling that came with running. Barry didn't really mind the feeling of the summer hot sun bearing down on him, it didn't compare to the feeling of the wind on his face, his arms, his legs. It didn't register, not like the beads of sweat he could feel rolling down his back, making his shirt cling to his body. Not like the ache in his legs, muscles still twitching from the adrenaline. 

As he ran, he took in the wheat fields to either side of the road, bright and golden, stalks dancing against a backdrop of cloudless blue skies. In the distance, he could see the windmills, blades turning and turning in the air. It reminded him of that small town from his childhood, the one they’d broken down near on their way to science camp.  

He keeps running until the mills fall far behind and the oceans of gold come to an end. The road is silent and still and for some odd reason, when he finally stops, he gets the strangest urge to just lay down on it and stare up at the clouds. 

The thought comes unbidden to him, making him flinch.  _ Had Caitlin seen any clouds in the past three years? _

In the days since his visit to Cisco, Barry had found himself filled to the brim with pent-up frustration. With no new forthcoming information from Cisco about Caitlin’s research, he found himself once again at roads-end 

In an act of desperation, he’d requested the initial letter of contact, the one that had blown Caitlin’s case wide open again. He knew, objectively, that the lab had already run every possible test but he couldn’t trust that they hadn’t overlooked something. Not when Caitlin’s life, her freedom, depended on it. When the results inevitably proved what he’d feared (they revealed nothing more than what the original lab results had), Barry knew it was time to get out of the office. 

Joe would have dragged him out anyways. He and Eddie had been complaining that Barry was getting too fixated on this case. Still, they hadn't gone to Singh’s to get him removed from the case. 

He thought back to the letter, the hastily scrawled cry for help, each letter written in different strokes of ink, sometimes blue and sometimes black, as if Caitlin had composed it in stolen seconds throughout her captivity. Her fingerprints had been found all over the letter and she’d even gone as far as leaving strands of her hair in the ziplocked baggie they’d received. 

The baggie itself had been found floating through a small stream, picked up by some couple on a hike. It seemed like such a big leap of faith for Caitlin, hoping her only cry for help would fall into the hands of some well-meaning citizen who would, in turn, contact the authorities…

Except it had paid off. 

And yet, Barry felt no more closer to solving the case than the first officer on the case had been three years ago. The stream itself wasn’t particularly helpful, so many offshoots and sources, smaller streams feeding into it until it eventually joined the Central City reservoir. 

Barry had spent far too many hours on Google Maps, painstakingly trying to trace back possible routes.

A loud honk startled Barry from his musings, the driver yelling at him to get off the road. He apologized quickly, stepping off the road. Digging into his pocket, he fished out his phone, squinting at the 4 missed calls from Joe and 3 texts from Iris.

He checks his texts first, huffing at Iris’ demands that he come to eat dinner with them at the house (or else she was coming over to drag him from the lab). He texts her back rather than calling Joe, telling her to save him a place at the table. With a sigh, he begins the long run back, the beginning notes to Isak Danielson’s somber ‘ _ Ending’  _ filling his ears.

* * *

When Barry arrives at the West home, Cecile is in the kitchen, directing Joe as he finishes up the potato salad. In the dining room, Eddie and Iris are setting the table, Jesse and Wally on the couch watching highlights from one of the World Cup matches.

“Hey!” Iris beams, looking up from her task, “There you are. What took you so long?” 

Barry flaps a dismissive hand. “I was out on a run and I had to get washed up.”

Joe pokes his head out of the kitchen, pointing at Barry approvingly. “Good. It’s about time you got out of that lab and got some space from that case.”

“Barry’s working cases now?” Wally asked, turning his attention from the tv quickly. 

“No,” Barry interjects before Joe can speak, “Uh, it's just that I knew the girl so Captain Singh felt that would bring some comfort to the family.”

Iris cocked her head, brown eyes wide and inquisitive, lips pursed. 

“Did she go to school with us?”

Cecile cuts in then, bringing in the salad bowl and firmly shutting down any kind of shop talk. “You can discuss it after dinner. Food is ready.”

Relieved to have been spared from answering too many questions, Barry follows Cecile into the kitchen quickly, maneuvering around her.

“Where’s Joanie?” Barry asks, washing his hands at the sink. 

“Some meeting for the club she chairs,” Cecile replies, smiling at Barry over her shoulder. She pauses, her smile faltering as she scrutinizes him. “You okay? You look a little tired.”

Barry shrugs, a wry smile on his lips. 

Bracing himself on the countertop behind him, he sighed, closing his eyes, pinpricks of light appearing in sharp bursts against the black of his eyelids. 

“What do you do when you’re stuck on a case?”

The kitchen fell silent as Cecile considered his question, Barry trying to calm the racing thoughts in his head. A very small part of him, deeply frustrated and so so incredibly tired, wanted to cry. He opened his eyes, blinking quickly to get rid of the moisture that had begun to collect, Cecile watching him quietly. 

“I step away from it and come back with fresh eyes.” She paused and stepping forward, she rested a hand on Barry’s shoulder. “It won’t do your Caitlin any good if you aren’t taking care of yourself first.”

Barry releases a deep breath and nods, meeting Cecile’s concerned gaze evenly. 

“It also helps to familiarize yourself with the client’s personal effects. People have the uncanny habit of leaving pieces of themselves lying around.”

Barry gaped. Why hadn’t it occurred to him before? Caitlin’s possessions were just sitting in a box at Cisco’s. He could ask Cisco for permission to examine them and get answers from the one person who actually had them.

Cecile pats his shoulder reassuringly, leading him into the dining room where everyone else has settled into their seats. 

Dinner is a loud affair, as it usually is, everyone lost in their own conversations, the laughter and warmth pushing away Barry’s troubles. Joanie joins them halfway through, bringing a box of leftover brownies and muffins with her from her club meeting. 

Afterwards, Jessie suggests a board game, an idea Eddie immediately takes up and within minutes, they’ve set themselves up at living room table, Joe, Joanie and Wally joining them while Cecile keeps the peace. Barry takes the opportunity to slip out for some fresh air.

He finds the North Star easily enough, years of stargazing with his dad coming back to him. A lot of people believed Polaris to be the brightest star in the night but Barry knew that in reality, it only ranked about 50 in brightness. The rest of the Little Dipper was less visible, all the light pollution from the street and the city nearby making it near impossible to make them out.

He doesn’t hear the door swing open behind him but he sees the light that spills out onto the grass before him, hears Eddie’s laugh filter out from the living room, bright and loud.

“Hey,” Iris calls out softly, settling beside him on the steps of the front porch. 

He doesn’t respond, ignoring her gaze as she turns to him. 

“Talk to me. What is it about this case?” 

Barry grimaces, something acrid and bitter building in his throat.

“I thought I could do this, find Caitlin, close her case… but I can’t. I never could,” he admits quietly. 

“Because of your dad?”

Barry twitches, only slightly resentful of the fact that she knows him so well. Still, he nods sharply under her watchful gaze.

“I couldn’t solve my dad’s case. I still can’t… and it’s been 18 years. Caitlin’s been missing for three years. What if-” he cut himself off, closing his eyes as a torrent of visions came to him. Visions of a future in which he failed to find Caitlin or found her too late.  “What if I fail her too? What if something happens to her because I wasn’t fast enough?” 

Iris sighed, shuffling closer to him, her hand reaching out to grasp his. Her hand is warm and soft in his, small and familiar despite the years. He remembers how they used to fall asleep on the couch together, after Barry had come to live with the Wests, hands clasped between them.

“I don’t believe that. Caitlin’s case isn’t like your dad’s and she’s still out there, fighting, helping the CCPD solve her case,” Iris reasoned gently. “Besides, I have it on good authority that you, Barry Allen, save people. You changed our lives when my dad took you in. For the better.”

Barry doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Iris’ face fall, a frown crinkling the smooth skin between her brows. She opens her mouth to speak and then hesitates, closing it again. Shaking his hand, she stands, pulling him up with her. 

“Come on. Let’s go watch Eddie lose at Monopoly.”

* * *

 

Bright white lights flood the room, the overhead lights turning on as the automatic timer signals the start of the hour, illuminating finger-smudged glass walls and the lab beyond it. 

8:00 am. Or was it 7? 

Perhaps it wasn’t even morning at all. 

The babbling brook that runs through the enclosure is loud and cheerful, taunting the prospect of freedom as it comes through and leaves, hopefully into the wild. It’d been weeks now since the letter, sealed in its little baggie, had floated out through the crevice at the bottom of her cell. Months of painstaking planning just to write those few words with no guarantee that the letter would ever even see the light of day. 

Day. It’d been so long since she’d breathed fresh air, felt the wind in her hair, felt the warmth of the sun on her skin. Sometimes, when the ventilators overhead whirred on, puffing air into the small of her room, she’d stand on her cot and tip her face to them, imagining she was standing on a tall mountain, where nothing and no one could harm her except nature itself. 

But those were on good days. The days when she pushed herself to exercise, to tend to the plants inside her cell. The days she let herself hope that someday, this nightmare would be over. 

Today was not such a day.

Today, the grooves she’d scratched into the glass with a nail from her bed frame in her earliest days, before it’d been confiscated, stared back at her, endless and ever-multiplying. The lumpy cot beneath her made her ache for her own bed, the paltry supply of reading material made her long for all her favorite books. She missed coffee,  _ good _ coffee, and her laptop and her lab. She missed everything about her life and the fact that she’d missed out on three years of it made her angry. It made her want to scream until every brittle emotion, every sharp burst of fear from the past three years coalesced into shards and became a weapon. 

Her eyes turned to the camera in the corner, always watching, always recording.

Anger was going to help her make it of here, help or no help. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was mainly a filler, just to really get into Barry's headspace and then introduce Caitlin's situation (which, if anyone watches The OA on Netflix, is inspired off that!)


	4. Chapter 4

Barry stares at the neat pile of boxes sitting before him, taunting him. It’s a fairly measly lot, he thinks, considering they were meant to contain the entirety of Caitlin’s possessions.

Despite his initial fervor to get his hands on her possessions, once Cisco had handed them over, Barry had been overcome with a mild sense of trepidation. It felt intrusive, clinical even, the thought of picking apart Caitlin’s possessions. Still, if there was even the slimmest chance that they could provide a clue...

The first three boxes Barry opens are lined neatly with Caitlin’s clothes and shoes. Quality fabrics and a clearly sophisticated style, going by all the pencil skirts and pressed blouses, but hardly extravagant clothing. The next box contains all of Caitlin’s documents: taxes and the like. He briefly skims these over, impressed but not overly surprised at how detailed and organized her finances were.

The next box he opens makes him pause. A small black velvet box rests on top, relatively inconspicuous as it sits amongst framed photographs and what seems to be photo albums.

He picks it up, thumb brushing over the soft material. He snaps it open.

Caitlin’s engagement ring.

He’s mesmerized for a moment, watching it glimmer in the light of the loft. When he takes it from its place, the engraving inside catches his eye. The initials seem worn, the ring clearly beloved. He settles it back gently into its case, setting the small box aside, a lump in his throat.

An hour later, he finds himself still working through the same box, hundreds of pictures spread out around him, photo albums lying open in wait.

Barry’s seen it all. The baby pictures, Caitlin’s first hand turkey, her first letter to Santa, the fake periodic table she’d made with her dad. He’s seen the pictures of when she got her first bike at six, the signed cast on her wrist at eight when she fell off her bike. Ugly Christmas sweaters, learning to bake, winning her 8th grade science fair.

He sees pictures from their high school graduation, even finds their old yearbook. There isn’t much from her college years but further on, he starts to find pictures of Cisco and Ronnie from her time at Star Labs. He bursts out laughing when he finds the Halloween photo, tears of mirth gathering in his eyes. Cisco’s eyes are fierce as he stares into the camera, lightsaber poised to strike. Besides him, Caitlin stands in Leia’s white dress, her hair styled in the ever iconic space buns, Ronnie at her side dressed as Han.  

The last photo he finds in that album is simply Caitlin and Ronnie, smiling brightly at the camera, the sandy beach behind them stretching on endlessly.

He turns away after he sees that photo, finding himself a bit ill. Her whole life…

Her laptop, set carefully on his coffee table, catches his eye.

Pushing back against the couch, he stands and stretches, pulling it towards him. He waits what seems to be hours as it powers on and downloads over three years worth of updates. Suddenly, after an eternity, the cursor blinks up at him, prompting him for a password.

He enters ‘Safe Mode’ to activate the Command Prompt, bypassing the lock screen entirely and ending up on the desktop homepage, blinking at the multitude of sticky notes on Caitlin’s screen.

They’re fairly mundane things: a reminder to call and set up an appointment at the dentist’s, what seems to be a reading list, notes on an article talking about the fusion and transmutation of molecular structures and a single solitary address.

He quickly looks up the address, hope swelling within him at the thought that perhaps he’d finally found a lead. The address turns out to be a cafe in downtown Central City.

It’s not exactly the kind of hot lead he needed but it wouldn’t hurt to follow up there anyways. He squints at the clock on the wall, calculating whether he has enough time to head out now. He’s running out the door only five minutes later, having gathered his keys, wallet and phone.

Kava Cafe is a cozy little nook of a shop, tucked between an antique furniture store and an Italian restaurant. The window out front shows off a warm, brightly lit space, people reading or on their laptops working quietly, drinks steaming at their elbows. When he walks in, the smell assaults him, a mixture of cinnamon and caramel, vanilla and freshly-ground coffee beans. He’s particularly enraptured by the display case of pastries, all glazed and fried donuts, fruit-filled pies and slices of cake; chocolate, carrot, red velvet, you name it.

He’s pulled out his lemon-tart focused reverie by the barista behind the register.

“Hi. What can I get for you today?”

_Huh. British._

Barry cleared his throat, pulling out his ID, “Hi. I’m with CCPD, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

The girl’s face pales, a not uncommon reaction in his line of work. After a moment of hesitation, she nods and then puts up a finger, fetching her co-worker from the back to cover the register. She pauses then and turns in askance, “would you like anything to drink?”

Barry shakes his head, instead beckoning her to follow him.

“Uh I don’t really know how much I could tell you… you’d have to speak to my manager, she’s not here at the moment. I - I have her number though… if you’d like,” the girl manages, head bowed and hands wringing nervously as they walk to an empty table.

Barry suppresses a sigh.

“How long have you been working here….?” he asks, settling down across from her.

“Amy,” she offers shyly, brown eyes peeking up at him from under thick lashes. “I’ve been working here for five years. Started my freshman year of college and it worked with my school schedule so I just stayed. Now I’m taking a year off, saving for grad school”.

Barry smiles a bit, remembering those early years of college, when he’d been working as an assistant at the CCPD, fetching coffee for the squad and photocopying things, organizing filing cabinets, etc. When Joe had first suggested the idea, Barry had balked at the thought but then he figured, he’d at least be getting a first-hand understanding of the precinct, his future coworkers and bosses.

Once he’d officially become a certified CSI, it was easy to get into the swing of things there.

He wants to ask Amy what she’s studying, what sparks her interest, but questions concerning Caitlin weigh heavier on his tongue.

“I’m looking into a missing persons case. A personal note on the victim’s computer suggested that she might have come here.” Barry pulls out his phone, tapping his way into the photo gallery until Caitlin’s picture is staring up at him, smile small and restrained. “Do you recognize this woman?”

Amy cocks her head, brows furrowed.

“I think I do, actually. Haven’t seen her in quite some time but she used to come in a couple times a month, always with the same man,” she muses, her eyes taking on a far-away look.

“Can you describe the man to me? Did he have long hair?” Barry asks, pulling out the notepad he’d stuffed into his breast pocket.

“No, no. Not long hair. He was a tall bloke, short brown hair. Light blue eyes…. Or maybe, they were gray?” Amy continues, nose scrunching in thought, “I don’t remember much honestly, it was years ago. The only reason I even remember them is cause, one of the last times they came here, he got angry. He broke one of our mugs actually, I remember cause I was working that day, you see. I was scared he might even try and hit her, he seemed so angry, but he didn’t. He yelled at her and swiped the mug off the table, I shouted at him that he had to get out and pay for that or I’d be calling the police. He left and afterwards, when I went to clean up the mess, she was still sitting there, shaking like a leaf. Poor thing. Now you say, she’s missing.”

Barry finished scribbling onto his notepad, pausing to digest all that information.

Who was this mystery man? Was Caitlin dating at the time of her disappearance? That would make the man in question a prime suspect; domestic violence at the hands of intimate partners was, sadly, not altogether uncommon. Especially if she’d tried breaking up with him, Barry thought.

He glances up at Amy, who’s watching him curiously, curling a strand of hair around her fingers.

“Do you, by any chance, remember what he was yelling about?” Barry asks, moving forward in his seat until he’s poised on the very edge of it.

She shrugs apologetically, “I don’t. Sorry.”

Slumping back into his chair, he looks around the shop once again. He spots the camera against the far wall, facing the seating area, another facing the cash register. He gnaws at his lip in thought, looking down at his notes.

_Tall, brunet, light eyes. Came in with Caitlin couple times of month. Agitated in last encounters._ _Possible suspect._

The underlined words seem to sear themselves into his brain, bringing with them the fervent hope that perhaps he’s finally found a worthwhile clue.

“Two final questions,” Barry states abruptly, continuing when Amy nods in acquiescence, “how long does your store retain footage for those cameras? When did you last see them come in?”

She turns, peering at the cameras. “Uh, I think only for about 6 months… As for when I last saw them, the mug incident was the last time I saw the man. I think the woman came in once more after that, maybe around early spring? April, probably.”

April. Just a month before she disappeared.

Once he’s finished scrawling her remarks into his notepad, he stands, thanking her for her cooperation. She smiles shyly and then shuffles off towards the register, glancing back at him periodically over her shoulder.

Barry stands, baffled, before he shakes his head and sets off, digging his phone out of his pocket. Outside, he waits patiently, listening to the line ring, the sky above him awash with the colors of the sunset.

“Joe. I think I’ve got a lead.”

* * *

 

 Caitlin mixes the compound slowly, watching him watch her from the corner of her eye. He’s left her alone before, choosing instead to keep an eye on her through the camera, but today…. It’s as if he knows that she’s planning something, that she’s waiting for him to leave so she can put her plan into action.

Or maybe, he’s watching her because somehow, someone out there has gotten her message and they’re looking for her now. The thought makes her falter, the hope it brings almost crippling her with relief. She tamps down on it though, three years of captivity bringing her back down to earth.

“That’s enough for today.”

She nods, stepping back from the table as per routine, her eyes surveying the surface for anything she can use later on. He takes the solution, taking it to the padlocked bio-containment unit he kept at the far end of the lab.

Caitlin moves quickly and quietly, gathering the leftover beakers, flasks and test tubes in her hands and carrying them over to the sink. She lets the bottom most beaker slip from her grip, jumping back when it shatters at her feet.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he thunders, whirling on her, eyes wide and filled with anger.

Stuttering, she deposits the items in her hands back onto the table, going on her knees to gather up the shattered remains. “I -I’m sorry, I just… I wanted to help. It slipped - I’m sorry.”

Her voice shakes, eyes welling with unshed tears.

He’s at her side in no time, brusquely shoving her aside. “Get back into the cell. NOW”.

Nodding meekly, she stands and returns to the glass cage she’s called home for the past three years. He bangs his fist against the button and with a hiss, the door closes behind her. She sits on her cot, watching quietly as he cleans the mess she’s made, cowering when his glare finds her again and again.

He’s still mumbling and cursing her under his breath when he leaves, his footfalls heavy on the stairs leading up to the house.

For a long time, she sits there, breathing shallowly, trying to slow her racing heart. From the corner of her eye, she can see the red glare of the camera’s light, recording her every movement.

She stands on wobbly legs and makes her way to the stream, turning her back to the camera. Unfurling her fist, her eyes catch on her prize. Unrefined and rudimentary, but useful nonetheless. The shard has dug into the palm of her hand, drawing blood, and in the harsh light, the bloody glass looks unnerving, out of place in her clinical, clean space.

The feeling in her chest is unnerving too. Bitter and violent and full of icy vengeance. And yet...

She smiles a smile, sharp as glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returneth! Sorry for the long wait, fall semester was truly the semester from hell and I'm studying abroad this semester so I've been exploring and adventuring, haven't really had time to sit down and write. But here it is! Long awaited next chapter. Thank you all for your lovely reviews and comments, means a lot to me! We're getting closer to Barry cracking the case! Any ideas on who the mystery man could be? Stay tuned! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back, back again?


End file.
